The Last Chapter: Back to the Burrow
by Kiara Avalon
Summary: The last unwritten chapter of Deathly Hallows. Certainly not as good as J.K. Rowling would have written it, but a softer ending all the same.


Harry, Ron and Hermione left Dumbledore's office moments later, the sounds of his farewells echoing through their ears. As they made their way toward the Gryffindor common room, Harry made a mental note to ask Kreacher how he was. He still had a few matters to discuss with the House Elf, and perhaps he could even ask for that sandwich. They were approaching a corridor that led towards the Fat Lady when Harry caught sight of a stray Decoy Detonator on the ground. He stopped walking so abruptly that Ron and Hermione turned to face him, curious expressions playing on their faces.

'Harry, what's wrong?' asked Hermione, panic rising in her voice. Her eyes fluttered to the scar on his forehead.

'Nothing,' Harry assured her, fixing his eyes on the small object, which was running round in little circles. He bent down to pick it up and turned it over in his hand. 'I have to do something. You lot go ahead,' he added hastily as he turned and started walking away from them. Ron and Hermione exchanged confused glances and shrugged before turning and continuing along their way.

Harry headed toward the corridor that led to Snape's old dungeon, not quite sure why he felt as though he had to go there. Surely enough, before the painting of the fruit bowl that hung on the wall stood a very battered George. He was facing the painting with his back to Harry, who approached in slow steps. Harry felt a pang of guilt as he watched George, who seemed so immersed in observing the painting that he made no sign of noticing Harry's presence. After a few moments, Harry seemed to find his voice.

'George?'

George whirled around quickly, plunging his right hand into his robes and pulling out his wand. He caught sight of Harry and his arm relaxed, lowering the wand still clenched tightly in its fingers.

'Sorry, mate,' he said with a small smile that Harry could tell was forced, 'Old reflex.'

They stood there staring at each other for a few moments. Then, George jerked his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards the painting that hung on the wall.

'Remember how we used to steal food from the kitchens?' he said, though he phrased it as a statement rather than as a question. 'It was through this painting. Fred was the one who found it.'

George smiled as he looked up at the portrait again.

'He was always like that, you know. Finding new passageways. Having new ideas. Making people laugh.'

Harry didn't know how to respond. He wanted to say that from his point of view, George was just as funny and cheerful as Fred was, but it did not seem an appropriate moment to mention this. After all, it was all Harry's fault. If he'd approached Voldemort earlier, Fred might still have been alive. George might still have had his brother, his best friend. Teddy Lupin might still have had his parents. Dennis Creevey might still have had an elder brother.

'George—' started Harry.

'Don't,' said George firmly, and he looked at Harry with a determined gaze. 'Don't beat yourself up about it. We all knew the risks when we fought. Lupin, Tonks, me… even Fred. He was happy just to do his part in the war. He was laughing when he died. Remember, Harry? 'Cause Percy came back.'

_Percy came back_. At those words, George's face seemed to light up.

Harry nodded stiffly.

'It's just… so odd now,' George continued, resuming his gaze toward the painting. 'I can't imagine my life without Fred. It's always been Fred & George. George & Fred. And now, it's just George. Without an ear,' he added indicating toward his missing ear with a wry smile.

'George?' said Harry, finally finding the words he had been searching for. George wasn't looking for an apology. He was looking for a way to move on.

'I didn't know Fred as well as you did. But I think he would have wanted his best friend to be happy. Whether he died fighting or not, he wouldn't want it to stop you from living your life. I don't think for a second that he entered that battle without realizing that he was going to have to fight to the death.'

George considered him for a moment before speaking. 'You're right, Harry. Thanks for saying that.'

Harry reached into his right pocket, pulled out the Decoy Detonator he'd found and tossed it to George before turning and leaving the corridor.

When he entered the common room, there was a roar of celebration. Banners were hung up, and Harry was happy to find that the Gryffindors were no longer afraid to use Voldemort's name. Some banners read phrases like, 'We won,' or 'Freedom at last,' but others more bolder and daring read 'Burn in Hell, Voldemort' or 'Voldy's gone moldy.' Harry smiled at the last one, which seemed to remind him of Peeves' victory song.

In the corner of the common room sat Ron and Hermione, gazing absent-mindedly at the fireplace and holding hands as they leant into each other. Harry smiled at the sight but was quite surprised to find them alone, undisturbed by the cheering Gryffindors that filled the room. Ron and Hermione sat up as Harry approached them with a grin.

'You know,' he said, collapsing on a sofa across from them. 'I half-expected you lot to be mobbed and crowded by the time I got here.'

Hermione said nothing, but Ron spoke excitedly.

'We were,' he said, returning Harry's grin. 'You should have seen it, mate. We came here, hoping it would be empty, and it was. But after about five minutes, everyone just started coming in. They were asking questions, wondering where we'd been and what we'd fought and loads of other questions. We answered some of them but after a while, Hermione pulled out her wand and threatened to Dragon Hex the next person who asked a question.' Ron appeared slightly put out at the last bit.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione and couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice as he repeated, 'Dragon Hex?'

'Yes, well,' said Hermione, raising her hands exasperatedly, 'people seem to think the break-in at Gringotts and escape via dragon was our one big adventure, so I figured one good Dragon Hex would scare the lot off!'

Harry smiled at this then leaned forward in his chair, suddenly serious.

'Listen,' he said, and his memory sparked back to George and the painting of the fruit bowl. Ron and Hermione leaned forward in their chairs as well, sensing the seriousness in Harry's tone.

'I think we ought to hold a memorial. Sort of like what we did for Dumbledore, but for all the people that died. Parents are going to want to collect their children's bodies, and we should let them, but the rest… I think we ought to bury them at Hogwarts.'

Ron nodded solemnly, and Hermione suppressed a sob.

'Even though Voldemort was after me,' continued Harry, 'This was a Hogwarts war. And I'm sure a lot of the people who died would want to be buried here.'

'Like Fred,' said Ron darkly.

'Yeah,' said Harry, who had nothing more to say about the topic. He felt his stomach rumble and recalled Kreacher. He gazed around the common room to find that Gryffindors were still celebrating around him.

'Kreacher?'

Kreacher appeared immediately with a 'pop', startling Hermione so that she fell out of her chair.

'Master summoned me?' croaked Kreacher, sinking into a low bow. He was carrying a small bundle in his arms. Many of the students in the common room had turned around at Kreacher's appearance but were now returning to their festivities.

'Yes I did, Kreacher,' said Harry, ignoring the second growl his stomach had made.

'You probably know that Vol – that You-Know-Who's gone,' he said, hastily avoiding to use the name Voldemort. Although he knew that many wizards were now able to say the name without fear of danger, Harry was sure he could count on a house-elf to fear a wizard that was already dead.

'Kreacher knows, Master. Kreacher saw Master and friends fighting.' He indicated to Ron and Hermione, who smiled weakly.

'Kreacher,' continued Harry, 'I'm not sure if you know -'

'– or care,' interjected Ron, who seemed to have guessed what Harry was about to say.

'—but Dobby—Dobby's gone.' Harry had gotten rather used to using the word 'gone' instead of 'dead'. It made the pain of loss much easier to bear.

Kreacher looked up, and to Harry's surprise, was tear-struck.

'Kreacher knows, Master,' he said slowly. 'Dobby has been helping Kreacher all year. He has been encouraging Kreacher to show respect for Master and friends.'

Harry cringed at the word 'Master'. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kreacher continued talking.

'Dobby told Kreacher before he went off to save Master… He told Kreacher to take care of Winky and Donny.'

'Donny?' repeated Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Kreacher's face broke into a smile as he revealed the small bundle in his arms. Wrapped around a dirty pillowcase and some sponge as a cushion, lay a small and rather ugly elf. Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth in surprise.

'Kreacher,' she said with amazement, 'Is that Dobby and Winky's son?'

'Son!' Ron fell out of his chair as well, joining Hermione on the ground.

Harry stared at the baby elf as Kreacher nodded at Hermione. 'Yes ma'am', he said earnestly. 'Kreacher is responsible for Donny ma'am.' Hermione beamed at him.

'House-elves can –' stuttered Ron, appearing bewildered.

Hermione promptly knocked him sideways. 'Of course they can, Ron,' she snapped. 'How do you think they get more of them?'

'I dunno,' said Ron, still surprised. 'I always figured they just kept popping up. Dobby has a son… Blimey…'

Harry, still speechless, reached over and took Donny from Kreacher's arms.

'So,' he said, looking at the child in his arms, 'This elf… Donny, was it? He's going to stay at Hogwarts?'

'Yes, Master,' croaked Kreacher, bowing once again. At the sound of the word 'Master', Harry closed his eyes. He returned Donny to Kreacher's hands and then spoke.

'Kreacher, do you like being a house-elf? Do you ever wish you were free?'

Kreacher had not been expecting this. After a few moments, he responded.

'Kreacher has always served. Kreacher does not know otherwise.'

Harry sat back, nodding. He had to ask, before doing what we was about to do.

'Harry, wait,' said Ron quickly. 'You can't set Kreacher free. He knows too much, remember? The Order?'

'What does it matter?' said Harry, taking off his right shoe. 'Voldemort's gone. The Order's headquarters was revealed anyway. If he's going to take care of Dobby's kid, I want him to be happy too,' he finished, removing his sock as well.

Hermione beamed at him. Harry looked at the sock in his hand. Kreacher had lived his life with the Blacks. Would he object to being freed? Would he be as unhappy as Winky was when she was freed? Harry held out the sock for Kreacher, who looked at it for a few moments.

'Kreacher, I want you to be happy,' said Harry, feeling as though he were the head spokesman of S.P.E.W. 'And free. Like Dobby was. I don't want you to think that other people are better than you. We live in a Magical world, with Wizards, Witches, Goblins and even House-elves. All of us have a different kind of magic and that's got to be respected. Even by wizards. I want you to see the world, Kreacher. And,' he added with a thought, 'if you ever want to settle down, I'm sure Hogwarts would be more than happy to hire you.'

Kreacher looked at Harry, his eyes large and tearful. He reached over and took the sock slowly from Harry's hand wordlessly. Finally, he managed to whisper, 'Thank you, Harry Potter, sir.'

Harry nodded, relieved that Kreacher had stopped addressing him as 'Master'. 'But before you go, Kreacher,' he said quickly, the hunger in his stomach overpowering him. 'I know you're free and everything, but… Could you get me a sandwich?' Hermione gave a sigh of exasperation but Ron laughed beside her.

Though Kreacher was now a free elf, he nodded slowly and gave Harry, Ron and Hermione each a low bow before Disapparating.

The next day, Hogwarts staff and students gathered in the Great Hall for the memorial and final feast of the year. Professor McGonagall had become Headmistress. Still, she sat in her own seat next to the head chair, leaving the latter empty; she seemed unable to take the seat that had once belonged to Dumbledore. The hall that was filled with minor chatter, excited whispers and mournful tones hushed into silence as McGonagall, whose authority seemed to command them, rose to speak.

'As you know,' Professor McGonagall began importantly, 'Lord Voldemort has fallen.' Cheers filled the Great Hall, echoing through the walls, and even Professor McGonagall gave a satisfied smile before she raised her hand in silence. 'Due to current events, we are not giving out a House cup this year. We don't feel it's necessary to force a competition, to pit House members against each other, especially at a time like this.'

Professor Flitwick nodded approvingly; Professor Sprout gave an abrupt nod next to him.

'However, we believe that it is necessary to recognize some important individuals today. I believe that everyone in this Hall has shown incredible bravery and strength these past few days and even throughout this horrendous school year. We must also recognize that in our attempts to destroy a Dark enemy, we have lost many friends. I cannot begin to express how their deaths will leave Hogwarts empty and desolate.'

A solemn blanket fell over the crowd. Harry couldn't bear to look at Dennis Creevey, who was crying silently at the end of the table, his brother's camera clutched tightly in his fingers. Professor McGonagall spoke again.

'We have lost many, all who were much too young to have suffered the way they did.' Professor McGonagall's eyes filled with tears. 'I would like to take a moment of silence to honour and respect those brave souls who had sacrificed their lives to make the world a better place for the future generation.'

And suddenly everyone was on their feet. There was none of the usual clatter that was made as students shuffled round after breakfast or after dinner. Instead, there was no noise whatsoever as each student stood perfectly aligned with the next in respectful silence. Harry bowed his head and could see from the corner of his eye as Malfoy stood slowly. He and Goyle were huddled together, but on their feet nonetheless, and Harry could tell that they were mourning their friend, Crabbe.

A few moments later, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat again.

'You may sit. The people who fought in the war against Voldemort were extremely brave. We have decided, and the Ministry quite agrees, that each and every one of those people should receive the Order of Merlin, First Class.'

Ron gaped at her, both shocked at gleeful. 'What?'

'And—' Professor McGonagall waved her wand into the air. The large doors to the Great Hall swung open with a flourish. Harry turned round to find a rather grand plaque floating into the air. It nearly grazed the top of his head as it floated to the left wall, hovering for a moment in midair, before attaching itself. 'In honour of those who fought bravely,' said McGonagall finally, sitting back down in her seat.

There was a great deal of murmuring as everyone turned to look at the plaque. It was large, covering most of the wall. At the top in grand, gold writing read, 'Brave Soldiers of the Hogwarts War. Harry couldn't help but smile as he looked the plaque up and down, seeing Fred Weasley's cheerful picture wave back at him and Lupin and Tonks posing arm in arm, grinning happily.

'Harry, look!' Hermione squealed, grabbing his elbow and pointing to a corner of the plaque. Harry felt his heart lift as his eyes scanned over his own green ones on the plaque, smiling nervously. He was standing beside Hermione and Ron. Harry hastened to read the words underneath their pictures: 'Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, & Hermione Granger: Hogwarts' Brave Trio'.

Ron gave a loud whoop as the excitement broke over the hall. 'Brave trio!' he hollered, the sound of his voice drowned out by the loud cheers around him.

Next to Ron, Harry saw Neville staring at the plaque in wonder. He turned to the plaque again and sure enough, there was a picture of Neville smiling sheepishly back at him. Underneath it was a single quote: 'I'll join you when Hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!' Harry felt a rush of pride and admiration. He'd come a long way, Neville had.

There was a light tap on Harry's shoulder and he turned round to find Ginny smiling at him, her eyes shining with tears. Harry welcomed the approach, hugging her and sliding over on the bench as his happiness and sadness became overwhelming.

Harry, Ron and Hermione left Hogwarts the next day. As they had not inhabited Hogwarts that year, it seemed inappropriate that they should head home through the Hogwarts Express with the other students.

Professor McGonagall had told them that they would be permitted to come for classes during the summer if they had still wanted to pursue a career. Hermione, who had looked as though she'd been troubled with this matter for some time, jumped up and down at the news. Although McGonagall had already told them that they were trained well enough for a career as Aurors, ('that fiasco at Gringotts got half the school going,') there was still the matter of the tests. Harry, who still had a burning desire for the occupation, happily obliged.

That day, Harry, Ron and Hermione Apparated out of school bounds to Bill and Fleur's Shell cottage.

The door swung open before Harry could knock.

'Harry!' greeted Bill, his voice cheery.

'Hi, Bill,' Harry breathed as the nausea hit him full force. He could never stomach the queasy feeling of Apparition.

'Good job, Harry. You were amazing out there.'

Harry shook his head. 'It wasn't just me,' he clarified, for what felt like the thousandth time. 'I had a lot of help.'

Fleur appeared from inside a room, her long shiny hair sweeping behind her.

'Do I hear 'Arry?'

'Hi, Fleur.'

Fleur swept toward Harry and kissed both of his cheeks, then (to Hermione's utter annoyance) kissed Ron's cheeks as well.

'Congratulations,' spoke Fleur, breathlessly. 'It is wonderful to finally live normally.'

Harry nodded in agreement, taking in her appearance. He wasn't able to put his finger on it, but she looked different somehow. Bigger, perhaps?

Hermione had noticed it too. 'Fleur, are you –?'

'She's pregnant,' said Bill, and he grinned, wrapping an arm around Fleur's shoulder.

'Really?' squeaked Hermione. Fleur positively beamed.

Ron clapped Bill on the back and exclaimed with excitement, 'You're going to be a father!'

'Congratulations,' repeated Harry slowly. 'I should be saying that to you.'

'Thank you very much,' Fleur said, still smiling. 'Will you be staying for dinner?'

Harry shook his head. 'Sorry, Fleur, I can't. I still need to go and see Tonks' mother. I've got to tell her what happened.

But a woman was already emerging from a room behind Bill, carrying a small child in her hands.

'It's okay, Harry dear,' said Andromeda Tonks. 'I already know.'

'I'm sorry,' Harry supplied. He found himself uttering those same words all too often lately. 'They died fighting.'

Andromeda nodded understandingly. Harry turned to look at Ron and Hermione. Ron appeared grave, but Hermione was looking straight as though determined.

Andromeda walked towards Harry and gently presented the child in her hands. Harry took it carefully, supporting the head with his right hand.

'I believe you are the godfather,' said Andromeda.

Harry nodded and looked down at the child that was sleeping soundly in his arms.

'Teddy Lupin,' he said with a smile, and he couldn't help but liken himself to the baby. He also had parents who died fighting against Voldemort. He was also left to the world with a godparent. But this time, this child won't lose a godfather.

As they left the Shell Cottage, Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione were holding hands again. They turned to look at Harry, who was grinning amusedly.

Ron spoke first.

'So where are you going now, mate?'

Harry had expected this. He spoke clearly and truthfully.

'I'm going back to the Dursleys. Not to stay,' he added hastily, at Ron's raised eyebrows. 'I reckon there are some stuff I left there, my Firebolt included. And I want to ask Aunt Petunia about my mother… and about Snape.'

Ron nodded.

'Right. We're going to Austrailia. Not to stay,' he added hastily at Harry's raised eyebrows, his ears turning red.

'I'm going to find my parents,' said Hermione resolutely. Harry could tell that this was what she'd been thinking about in Bill's cottage. 'I need to tell them everything.'

Harry nodded.

'But Harry,' Ron interjected quickly. 'After you come back from the Dursley's… and after we come back from Australia… back to the Burrow?'

Harry grinned at him. 'Back to the Burrow.'

Number 4 Privet Drive. Harry had not expected to return here. But after watching Snape's final memory some nights ago, the visit seemed crucial. Lily and Petunia Evans had once been close, if even for a while. Petunia had not entirely despised Harry's mother. She had even known about Snape. Harry began to feel a new respect for the man he'd despised for the past seven years, for the man he had always believed to be evil.

Harry walked up to the front door and knocked once. Silence. He tried again. When it seemed that the Dursleys would never let him it, the door swung open and Aunt Petunia appeared. She stared at him for a moment, regarding him with a mingled expression of shock, and perhaps even care.

'You're back,' she whispered, taking in Harry's appearance.

'Not for long,' Harry assured her. He paused. 'Can I come in?'

Harry had not expected her to hold the door open for him. Quite honestly, he expected her to shut the door in his face. In fact, he had already planned to steal his belongings in the dead of night. But here was Aunt Petunia, holding the door open for him so generously that it would have made Dumbledore proud.

Harry walked into the house that even despite his absence, looked the same. Uncle Vernon appeared in the hall and at noticing Harry, his eyes bulged out.

'You!' he exclaimed. Harry smiled. This was the greeting he was so accustomed to. 'I thought you were leaving!'

'I am,' assured Harry. 'I just need to get the rest of my stuff. The stuff I left in my room. Unless…' Harry looked from his aunt to his uncle. 'You've gotten rid of it all?'

Aunt Petunia shook her head slowly as Dudley came thundering down the stairs.

'What's going—' He broke off abruptly, catching sight of Harry next to his mother. Harry could have sworn he saw Dudley's mouth twitch at the corners.

'I'm not staying,' clarified Harry for the third time that night. 'I was just wondering whether you still have my stuff. The stuff I left in my room.'

Aunt Petunia nodded and spoke.

'Dudders, if you would show Harry where his stuff are…'

Harry looked at her, bewildered, and then followed Dudley upstairs. When had Aunt Petunia started calling him by his name? Harry recalled a time when he was simply addressed as 'boy'. As he followed Dudley up the stairs, a new thought struck him. He no longer lived here. He was a guest. And despite the fact that Harry had lived in this house nearly all his life, he was now a guest. That was why Dudley was now escorting him to the room that was once his.

Dudley came to a stop in front of Harry's room and Harry opened the door. The room was just as it had been when he left it. In the corner were his Quidditch robes and textbooks. Harry raised his wand and summoned his belongings into his trunk. He saw Dudley eyeing his wand with both fright and longing from the corner of his eyes.

'You're—' began Dudley.

'I'm overage,' interrupted Harry. I'm allowed now. Don't worry though,' he said, catching the scared look on his cousin's face. 'I never planned on using it against you.'

Dudley's face relaxed and he looked at Harry's trunk instead.

'I never let them,' he said, avoiding Harry's eye. 'I never let them get rid of your stuff. I knew you'd come back for it.'

Harry didn't know what to say. After almost seventeen years of tormenting him, it seemed impossible that Dudley was showing affection now. Especially when Harry was planning on never seeing him again.

'Er… thanks, Dud,' he said rather awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

Harry came downstairs, carrying his Hogwarts trunk. He stowed his wand in his jeans. Dudley may have chosen to be kinder towards Harry, but there was no guarantee Uncle Vernon would do the same. Harry was about to bring up Voldemort's death when Aunt Petunia spoke in a quivering voice.

'He's gone, isn't he?' she asked, while Uncle Vernon looked from his wife to his nephew. 'That's why we've moved back?'

Harry nodded. It wasn't necessary to say more, but Aunt Petunia seemed to have guessed how Voldemort had died.

Harry walked toward the door, ready to leave. Aunt Petunia followed him with a pensive face.

'Don't be a stranger.'

Harry looked at her, shocked, considering that that all he was in her home was a stranger. He chose his words carefully before he spoke.

'Aunt Petunia…' Uncle Vernon had turned his attention back to his newspaper and Dudley had gone to eat dinner. 'My mother. Did you really hate her?'

He watched his aunt's face as she considered this, as she reflected her past. Back to when she and her sister played at the swings. Back to when they laughed with each other. Back to when Lily Evans had called her 'Tuney'. Then, she turned to Harry and whispered one word.

'Never.'

Harry walked out into the dark night with a smile.

Snape, he thought, can now rest in peace, knowing that the son of Lily Evans would live past Lord Voldemort's wrath. Harry felt that it wasn't necessary to speak to Aunt Petunia about Snape. After finally confessing to have not despised his mother, Harry did not want to ruin the moment by mentioning the man that Aunt Petunia seemed to hate even more.

Harry recalled his surroundings. The neighbourhood made him recall his only friend at Privet Drive. Hedwig. Harry felt sadness fill him once again, but pushed it down. After all, Hagrid was right. Hedwig had lived a happy life. Finally, Harry thought about his old Hogwarts professor, Remus Lupin. At least now, he was reunited with his best friends. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and even Peter Pettigrew, in all his betrayal, were all reunited at death.

Harry reached into his jeans and pulled out his wand, raising it in the air with a sort of finality.

'Accio Firebolt.' It was only a few moments before his Firebolt came whizzing towards him. Harry caught it deftly, amazed at its fairly good condition. After all, it had fallen a long way. Harry hoisted himself atop his broomstick and fixed his trunk so that it hung with a Sticking Charm behind him.

Harry kicked off the ground and shot up through the air, feeling the exhilaration he'd longed for all year. As the wind whipped through his hair, and as the crescent moon shone brightly through the sky, Harry grinned at the one thought that filled his mind.

Back to the Burrow.


End file.
